


Compulsions [Eng]

by Edenya404



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Incest, Lemon, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, M/M, Male Slash, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edenya404/pseuds/Edenya404
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time is unexpected and rushed.  Rough as the rocks on which he had bumped his spine – on which Thor had bumped him - vengeful like the sneer that deforms his face.</p><p>I thought you were dead.<br/>Did you mourn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sadomasochism

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to my new beta, SapSorrow, who has helped me a lot with this translation. I look forward to work with you, dear!
> 
> This is the first one of a three-chapter fanfiction based on this amazing gifset http://villainyforbeginners.tumblr.com/post/63752140115/you-let-me-violate-you-you-let-me-desecrate-you  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Edenya

**Sadomasochism**

n.

 _the combination of_ _sadism and masochism,_

 _in particular the_ _deriving of pleasure, especially sexual gratification,_

 _from inflicting or_ _submitting to physical or emotional abuse._

 

The first time is unexpected and rushed.  Rough as the rocks on which he had bumped his spine – on which Thor had bumped him - vengeful like the sneer that deforms his face.

 

_I thought you were dead._

_Did you mourn?_

 

 

Loki has fire in his eyes and ice in his heart. The veins are full of a bluish blood that is simply venom but has the most intoxicating flavour Thor has ever tasted and slips down his throat pushed by his mouth, by those lips that are unable to spread anything else. It takes only a few seconds to realise, a few seconds before pushing him away towards the overhang, only one hand behind his neck as a support.

"What are you doing?"

The spinal column feels as though it’s going to crack under his hand’s grip.

But Loki subsists on pain, on the dissatisfaction that he hates and perpetually searches for. A rejection is only a thrill, a bruise a pleasure blow, a fall an interrupted orgasm.

 

“What I’m better at, Odin’s son.”

 

The first time Thor doesn’t even have the time to understand how it could be possible that Loki’s body, elusive as  a shadow, can be so damned real and warm pressed against him. And it’s wrong, so damn wrong that drives him mad and makes him desire his blood again, this time on his fingers.

Loki gets the weakness in the tremble of Thor’seyelids and lets his hand slip until he reaches his crotch, pressing it.

 

“Loki!”

 

It is the frustrated growl of a beast, the animal fury of the predator and the arousal that it brings with itpushes him to slither under his pants, closing his fist around his hard cock. Thor grabs his hair, wheezing on his mouth. A warm breath that dries out the lips as if it’s the only antidote for the pain.

A desire that tarnishes his hair with shame, drowning his gold in a black that has the tinge of victory.

The breath turns into an indecent  moan when Thor pushes him down to the ground, making his back collide with the rock, and the sound of his own ripping skin is as exciting as seeing his brother knelt on the top of him. With a tug their pants are lowered. Loki releases a sneering laugh but the result is so disappointing that he would be ashamed of himself if the desire and the dissatisfaction weren’t obfuscating his senses. When Thor, then, grabs both their cocks, masturbating them and hiding the face in his neck, Loki realises that his brother never looked at him, never stopped to observe him truly, not even now that Loki is totally exposed under him. And the wound in his heart that this awareness causes is the necessary pain to make him cum, biting his lips; the broken moan of Thor’s pleasure deep in the ears.

 

The first time has the taste of Loki’s blood and the smell of their semen soaking their armour.


	2. Bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a very long time finally the second chapter is ready. It has been arduous to translate it but Sapsorrow is a fantastic and meticulous (in a very good way) beta-reader so now I can say that I'm proud of what we have done together! Hope you like it too^^  
> Last but not least, I want to thank my personal beta - Euterpe - because she also helped me a lot with this story.
> 
> 'till the next chapter!  
> kiss and love,  
> Edenya

** Bondage **   
_ n. _   
_ the state or practice of being physically _   
_ restrained, as by being tied up, chained or put _   
_ in handcuffs, for sexual gratification. _

 

The second time Thor stares at him. ( _Too much_ ) Intensely. A thunder of anger at the bottom of his iris that unravels the outlines of a sick desire. Loki is chained, muffled and handcuffed, yet his eyes look at him with provocation, no sign of yielding or humiliation. ( _Exciting_ ) Frosty. Indecent in his erroneous regality. And Thor hesitates  a bit too much on the border of the chain that surrounds his pale neck but nobody sees; because nobody is there, now that the city has disappeared and Asgard stands out on the horizon, behind him. Loki understands ( _he has always understood everything_ ) what the meaning of this stop before the prison is and looks at him with a scornful facial expression that Thor would gladly punch, if it was not restrainedby the metal that stops up his mouth.  
Thor removes it. He wants to hear him expose his reasons, mocking him once more, he wants to fall for it again. But Loki’s tongue, taking advantage of the freedom to lick the cut on his bottom lip, is a slap sufficient enough to make Thor stumble forward, nearer to him and his perfidious ( _tempting_ ) darkness.

“I thought that the mighty God of Thunder would have more endurance.”

His eyes are two deceptive slits, his voice a cold hiss. He does not have to wait a single second, as he had expected; a deplorable certainty upon which Thor cannot help but cling. Desperate. Hopeful. Letting the anger of a lost brother and the humiliation of an insufferable lust head his actions.

“Don’t challenge me Loki, you have already disappointed me enough.”

The voice that trembles at the bottom of Thor’s throat is a knot of emotions that not even the God of Mischief can unravel. Loki wraps himself in it, hoping that it clasps more than that collar of iron and pulls the chain more violently than his brother’s hands. Up ( _to bleed_ ) to scream his disgust tarnished with pleasure.  
Words combine themselves with breaths in the narrow space between their mouths.

_ What are you waiting for? Punish me, brother. _

_ There will be consequences for what you’ve done. _

_ Show them to me.  _

_ _ The second time Loki doesn’t even spare a second, not even an echo of pain from those handcuffs so strongly grasped in his brother’s fist that they slice the flesh. Thor blocks his arms in high and Loki’s cheek scrapes on the rock face every time that a garment is fiercely torn off. Thor knows that Loki can make new clothes appear with magic. He doesn’t care. He wants him naked, without facades, without scarves on his perfect yet corrupted skin. He just wants him. And such a thought has a tinge so horrific that his erection is mixed it up with stomach ache. Loki feels it and arches his spine - rubbing his ass on Thor’s desire still confined in his pants – and his brother’s reaction is as unexpected, as destabilizing ( _and so damn good_ ). Thor leans his whole body against his back, his hand slides down on Loki’s abdomen until it reaches his erection, grabbing it and rubbing him with provocative slowness. He presses his tongue between Loki’s shoulder blades, licking his spinal column up to his raven-black hair in which a shiver of weakness is hiding.

  


Loki is confused; confused and wrapped in something that he had not calculated before. An unpredicted sentiment that crumbles his mask as easily as he has built it, exposing the need for dissatisfaction that characterizes him ( _that he has invented for himself_ ). Then, when Thor’s lips stop to kiss his neck’s skin the recoil is simply too much to handle. 

“Have you confused me with that stupid mortal girl?”

His breath is fragmented but the voice is so glacial and irritating that it makes something, in the God of Thunder’s chest, explode. Thor understands ( _he that has never understood anything_ ) what’s behind that provocation. It’s something that he has always known and has prevented him from hating his brother. That ill-concealed weakness, that necessity of pain, makes Loki the sly and charming person he is now, destroying the human-being that he never was and, maybe, would have wanted to be at least once.

  
Thor owes him; he owes him everything.

  
It only takes a second to grip Loki’s wrists with one hand and spread his legs apart wide with the other. The same amount of time that is necessary for his erection to penetrate him and for his voice to be distorted in anobscene moan.

The second time Thor destroys him because an orgasm drowned in pain is everything that Loki needs ( _and_ _ everything that he can give to him _ ).

 


End file.
